Wilson, the perfect Caribbean sportsman

WILSON lives. The world’s greatest athlete is alive and well in the minds of those who followed his story in “The Wizard” comic of the 1940s and 50s, many of whom wrote to me after my exclusive disclosure of the great Caribbean man inventing the Fosbury Flop.

Many in the past have concentrated on his astonishing all-round ability as a track and field athlete but this was by no means his speciality. For instance, several readers have reminded me that he was an amazing cricketer, the all-rounder we have been searching for ever since Gary Sobers (who might be Wilson’s lovechild). As a bowler he invented the “double break” which pitched twice before reaching the batsman and turned a different way on each bounce.  Andy Roberts, our bowling coach, should set to work immediately working on the problem. His batting often threatened the roof-tops around Port-of-Spain (did I forget to mention he was a Trinidadian?). During the Second World War, in which he fought with unusual distinction as a Spitfire pilot, he also played his part in action on the ground. His most spectacular deed occurred when he found himself pinned down by a German machine-gun post armed only with hand grenades.

Wilson borrowed a cricket bat from a soldier who never went to war without it at his side (possibly another immigrant Trinidadian). He then persuaded the young man to lob grenades at him which he whacked with great accuracy into the enemy lines, wiping out the opposition. Winston Churchill, the Prime Minister of England said he’d never seen hitting like it, not since Gilbert Jessop was a lad. The only time the Caribbean threatened the Continental domination of the Tour de France was when Wilson was asked to select and train the riders. He chose two policemen, a paper boy, three postmen and two gas fitters. They were selected because, at that time, they were all used to riding a heavy cycle in hilly country to go about their daily work. Particularly the guys from Biche and Las Cuevas. People of my generation reading this to their grandchildren will have to explain about the time when legs were used either for walking or pedalling a bike, rather than pressing the accelerator of a car. Indeed, muscular legs in our day were achieved by daily routine and not manufactured in health centres. A police chase often involved an officer on a standard police bike, weighing about the same as a small bullock, pursuing some miscreant on a drop-handled Raleigh with a Sturmey-Archer three speed.  I know because I was on the Raleigh. But that was in another country and, besides, the policeman is long gone.

Having selected his team in what seemed to be an eccentric manner, Wilson’s training methods were similarly unconventional. He had them riding for 50 miles minus the left pedal and then another 50 without the right pedal. He then rigged a pulley over a well to which he attached a bucket of lead. The contraption was then hitched to a bike and the cyclists had to lift and lower the bucket into the well. After three stages the Italian rider and favourite, Inocenti, was winning. Wilson didn’t know, but we did, he was a cheat. He was using a hypnotist. However, cheats never beat, not in those days they didn’t. What happened was the hypnotist and his caravan failed to negotiate a hairpin in the Alps and went for a short flight before crashing onto the rocks below. After that there was no stopping the Caribbean team. We reached Paris at the end of the race with our riders in first, second and third positions. When the triumphant team looked around to salute their manager, the Great Wilson had disappeared. He went back to the hills above Lopinot where his mother was born and his diet of spring water and berries. Please visit www.cornelis-associates.com for the best website management and change management.